


Job Transfer

by shotgunsinlace



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV (2016), slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/pseuds/shotgunsinlace
Summary: If an overpowered brat of a prince needs three men to keep an eye on him, it’s only fair for the Oracle to have some heavy duty protection other than a slightly unstable sibling and a handful of tin cans with guns.





	Job Transfer

**Author's Note:**

> AU in which the armistice fiasco never happened and Crowe is alive and well.

Life crawls on at a pace she can’t keep up with. By no means is it too quick for her, nor slow enough to be a bore. Since as far back as she can remember, and it isn’t very, the peace and tranquility that delicately weave around Crowe leave her reaching for a dark horizon just beyond her reach.

It feels like she will wake up and everything she has worked for will vanish along with the comfort sleep has brought her.

But she isn’t asleep, she tells herself. She can’t possibly be.

There is a strict progression of cause and effect she can follow when she decides to linger on it. Dreams seldom make this much sense. Definitely awake, and that acceptance tugs at heartstrings she long thought dormant.

The morning sun is blinding where it hangs above the Tenebraen sky, raining its light over the rolling hills of green and blue. Amidst them, a small speck of white.

Crowe makes her way down a dew-slicked slope, her boots treading more mud than she would like. She’s just polished them and doesn’t want to spend another twenty minutes to get them up to her standards. Regardless, she soldiers on, holding a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the brightness. If only she’d brought her sunglasses with her.

She stops to stand on a mossy rock, arms crossed over her chest as she watches over the treasure she’s been training endlessly to keep safe.

Maybe sleep is what she needs.

First Lucis, now Tenebrae. Catching a break isn’t ever on Crowe’s agenda. Always on her feet, weapon and magic at the ready to protect royalty from whatever comes their way. Only, here, she followed more than just her pride when she enlisted to become Lady Lunafreya’s retainer.

If an overpowered brat of a prince needs three men to keep an eye on him, it’s only fair for the Oracle to have some heavy duty protection other than a slightly unstable sibling and a handful of tin cans with guns.

No hearth and home here, she figures. Crowe really does try to keep it professional, but there was something about the way Lunafreya’s eyes gleamed in the soft moonlight that made Crowe want to put down her arms and kneel before her. She did, and her reply was a hand on her shoulder and gentle words of encouragement.

 _“You need not kneel before me,”_ Lunafreya had said.

 _“Then I will stand beside you.”_ The words were out of Crowe’s mouth before she could even think about stopping herself.

Her arrival at Tenebrae had been both more and less hostile than she had expected it to be. Lunafreya’s caretakers were kind and spirited to meet her, while her brother had raged on about hosting a Lucian Kingsglaive in their manor.

Crowe flipped him off.

They kicked her off the property immediately after.

Not twenty minutes later Lunafreya had marched out and grabbed her by the wrist, hauling her back into her home and politely asking her to not mind Ravus and his self-important drivel.

And thus Crowe learned that, regardless of the country, it is not wise to be rude towards important political figures.

Closing the distance between the two of them, Crowe unceremoniously falls back into a field of sylleblossoms with a strong enough sigh to blow strands of hair away from her eyes. She shuts them, but not before smirking at the surprised look on Lunafreya’s face.

“You really didn’t hear me coming?”

“I was distracted.”

Crowe shakes her head. “So much for having eyes on the back of your head.”

“That’s what I have you for, isn’t it?”

“I thought it was because you liked my company.”

Lunafreya laughs, and it’s a soft and sweet little sound that leaves Crowe reeling. “I do enjoy your company quite a lot,” she says.

Crowe rolls onto her side and props her head up on a hand, cracks open her eyes to see what Lunafreya is doing. “Crown fit for a queen?”

Slender fingers thread stems together, knotting and adjusting as they go with the skill of someone who has done this a dozen times. The blue of the flowers stand out against the paleness of her hands, and Crowe is mesmerized by the repetitive motion.

“A crown fit for my bodyguard.” Lunafreya leans forward and deposits the crown of flowers onto Crowe’s head, adjusting her hair so that it falls naturally onto her head. “Blue is a very nice color on you.”

“Thanks. Better than drab black, I guess.”

“You also look very lovely in black.”

Crowe scoffs. “Lovely.” Now that’s a word she’s never been called. Scary, maybe. Badass. Cool. Intimidating. Lovely? Aside from some sass from her comrades, that’s definitely a new description coming from a genuine source. “Bet you’d look lovely in black. Or any color, really.” Or with nothing on, Crowe adds but refrains from saying aloud.

Hands neatly folded over her lap, Lunafreya looks away with a light brush of pink over her cheeks, as if she somehow heard Crowe’s unspoken comment.

Crowe adjusts the crown so that it won’t slip down her forehead and onto her face, briefly considers snatching one of Lunafreya’s berets to pin it in place.

“Do you really think so?”

The question is so softly spoken Crowe almost misses it. “I know so.”

It only then occurs to her that maybe Lunafreya isn’t all that different from her. Maybe she’s never been on the receiving end of those words. Hard to believe given how stunningly beautiful she is, but Crowe knows a thing or two about being affection starved while still being surrounded by people who care.

Crowe sits up, scoots close enough so that their knees are touching. “You’re gorgeous,” she says, and maybe it sounds a little deadpan, but she means it from the bottom of her soul. “You’re amazing, and sweet, and caring, and _very_ gorgeous, and I can’t decide whether I’m jealous or if I’m a little bit in love with you.”

Lunafreya stares at her with wide eyes, lips slightly parted with surprise. “Oh.”

“I know I’m overstepping a dozen boundaries, but I thought I’d let you know that.”

Her train of thought is interrupted when Lunafreya rises to her knees and awkwardly shuffles forward, her dress making the movement difficult and graceless. Crowe can only grin when her lap is straddled, face growing far too hot when cool hands frame her cheeks.

“Do you mean that?” Lunafreya asks, eyes sharper than she’s ever seen them before. There’s a hint of a tremor on her bottom lip, the slightest bit of uncertainty in the way she slowly traces Crowe’s jawline with her thumbs.

“Lying’s against my personal philosophy.”

The smile that spreads along Lunafreya’s features lights up her eyes, and Crowe could melt onto the grass beneath her. Sunlight touches her shoulders like a halo, and it is then and there that Crowe truly understands the holiness Lunafreya has within the confines of her body.

Speaking of which.

She is entirely too warm and eager, all soft curves and even softer edges, and Crowe has to swallow hard and concentrate on other things before she says or does something she will later regret.

Crowe tries thinking about politics, but hands are tucking wisps of hair behind her ear.

She then tries to think about the prying eyes that are most likely watching them from a distance, but that only makes her want to pull Lunafreya closer. Shield her from prying eyes while showing them that Lunafreya has a voice and right to choose – that right now she is choosing to grant Crowe the affection they’ve both been denied.

That thought too scatters to the breeze when soft lips press to hers, and Crowe’s eyes fall hopelessly shut as Lunafreya kisses her.

It’s nothing but a chaste seal, a brief taste of something Crowe never thought would be possible. “Wow,” she says once Lunafreya pulls away, heart skipping out of tune within her chest.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Lunafreya says, not a hint of shyness in her voice. “I hope that was okay.”

“No. I mean, yes, it was definitely more than okay. It was fantastic.”

“I’m glad.”

Crowe clears her throat, then nods her head. They both stay how they are, stiffly nodding at what just transpired, until Lunafreya begins to laugh.

“I didn’t mean to be so forward,” she says, hiding half her face against the palm of her hand despite the bubbling giggles that makes her shoulders shake with mirth.

“Be forward all you want,” says Crowe, leaning up to press a kiss onto the corner of her mouth. “I’m here to catch you if you lose your balance.”

“How romantic of you.”

“You know what they say. Lady in the streets and all that good stuff.”

Lunafreya’s eyes twinkle. “I wasn’t aware romance directly correlates with one’s title.  
Or one’s proclivity in the bedroom.”

Crowe blinks at her and then cracks a grin. “Kind of blown away and a little turned on that you got that reference.”

“I do have access to a smartphone, you know.”

“So you _can_ text.”

Lunafreya shrugs. “I’m notoriously bad at it. I tell myself I will reply shortly, and then completely forget for days on end.”

“Which explains the notebook.”

“The notebook is because a certain someone prefers to be dramatic.”

Crowe snorts out a laugh. “Runs in the family, let me tell you.”

“Enough about that,” Lunafreya says, getting up on unsteady feet before kicking off her high heels and leaving them with a small satchel. “Would you mind if I try on your jacket? I’m not particularly fond of that green color, but I do like the layered cut.”

“It’s a military uniform,” Crowe explains, both taken aback and intrigued by the sudden candidness. “I mean, go ahead, but I’m pretty damn sure you have nicer stuff in your endless closet.”

“But none of it is _yours_.”

Crowe holds a hand to seize any and all follow-up comments. “Speak no more, or else your dress is gonna get really dirty really fast.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says, but casts a wink over her shoulder before hiking up her dress and stealthily making her way back to the manor.

Crowe is left sitting there, dazzled out of her mind, and wondering just what on Eos she did to deserve such a vision. With the brilliant promise of a wonderful time ahead of her, she scrambles to her feet and wipes off the back of her jeans.

If this is a dream, then may the Astrals allow her to sleep. At least long enough to see Lunafreya come entirely out of her shell and shine brighter than any star along the heavens.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi over @ [tumblr](http://astramaxima.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
